The Real Thing
by allthingsdecent
Summary: House meets a strange woman in a bar and, well, you'll see...
1. Chapter 1

House was bellied up to the bar at Sullivan's when a woman walked in that caught his attention. First off, she was different from most of the other barflies who hung around this place. She was wearing expensive clothing and gave off the distinct whiff of private schools, of good breeding. Two, she was basically his type: Brown hair, slim but curvy, intelligent looking. Three—and although he couldn't quite put a finger on who—she reminded him of someone he knew. Maybe an old college girlfriend? Or an actress he had lusted after? Whatever the case, this strange familiarity gave her even more allure.

Something about the way the woman neatly folded her coat on the barstool next to her and sat up straight in her seat, made House feel that she wasn't used to coming to bars by herself.

He tried to listen in on her conversation with Dex, the bartender, but he couldn't make it all out: She was newly divorced. Her ex was watching the kids. Then she said some more things that he didn't quite catch.

"Ask him," Dex said at one point, gesturing to House.

The woman looked over at House—and gave a demure smile.

"Ask me what?" House said.

"The lady here wants to know the secret to being comfortable alone at a bar. I figure you have lots of practice."

"I do, in fact, know the answer to that question," House said, with a knowing grin.

"But you're not going to tell me?" the woman said, with tentative flirtatiousness.

"Not without a price," House said. "I mean, a guy's gotta have his secrets."

"Excellent point," she said, loosening up a bit. "Would another round work as remuneration?"

"It's like you read my mind."

The woman ordered House's drink (scotch) and another white wine for herself and slid a few barstools down to be next to him.

"So what's the secret?" she said.

"It's simple," House said. "Be a dude."

"What?" she said, slapping his arm playfully. "That's not helpful!"

"It may not be helpful, but it is, in fact, true. I can sit here at bar and not be hit on all night—well except for right now, of course."

She laughed.

"I'm not hitting on you!" she protested.

He winked at her.

"You, on the other, have had at least 10 different guys leering at you in the last 20 minutes. It was just a matter of time before one of these dime-store Casanovas made his move."

"Lucky I'm with you now then," she said.

House smiled, pleased.

"Indeed," he said, taking a big swig of his drink.

Then he squinted at her.

"The beauty of coming alone to a bar is you can be whoever you want to be," he said. "Complete reinvention. No one needs to know about your recent divorce or your child custody battles with your ex."

"Hey, you were eavesdropping!"

"Sound echoes in here."

"Suuuure," she said.

He leaned toward her.

"So, what's your story, strange lady I've just met in a bar?"

"Well, I'm an int—"

"Uh-uh-uh. Reinvention. Not biography."

"I'm an. . ." she thought it over for a second, ". . .international jewel thief."

House grinned. Now this was going to be fun.

"Wow. Sounds interesting. So what brings such a specialized professional such as yourself to Princeton?"

"See that woman over there?" she said, pointing to a pudgy, middle aged woman playing Keno. "You might surprised to hear that she's has millions of dollars worth of rare jewels stashed in a safe in her home."

"That is surprising," House said.

"Yes, so I've been following her, getting to know her habits. I've already cracked the code on her safe. It's 'I HEART CATS' by the way."

"Naturally," House said.

"Next step, putting on my jewel-thieving outfit."

"Skin tight?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Of course! Black leather. And I'll be slinking into her house to steal the jewels."

"Sounds hot," he said, leaning toward her. "Then what?"

"Well, I have to dodge the invisible lasers. She has those set up all over her house."

"Who doesn't?" House said.

"Exactly," the woman shrugged. "But my many years studying mime, kabuki, and . . .belly dancing have helped me be very flexible."

"Belly dancing, huh?"

"It's really all in the hips," she said.

"I would like to see that one day."

"I'd let you, but then I'd have to kill you," she said, emboldened by the look of amused approval on his face. Then smiling triumphantly, she said: "So I showed you mine. What's your line of work?"

"Security," House said. "I'm the one who set up Cat Lady's lasers."

"Uh oh," she said. "Busted."

"Yeah. So I'm probably going to have to have you arrested unless. . ."

"Unless what?"

"Well, if you come with me immediately, I think we can make alternate arrangements."

She squinted at him, clearly unsure. She was a good girl at heart, he could see this. Flirting with a strange guy in a bar was one thing. Going home with him was something else completely.

"I guess you leave me no choice," she said, grabbing her coat.

######

She followed him back to his place—then seriously considered gunning the accelerator and driving away.

His motorcycle had freaked her out. That was a bad boy thing, right? But he lived in a nice part of the city. That was comforting. And, let's face it, he was sexy as hell. She _wanted_ to sleep with him. It was just that she had never done anything like this before. (Since she got married right out of college, she never even had a _chance_ to go through the rebellious "sleeping with guys I picked up at bars" phase.) Yes, it felt a little dangerous, transgressive: But she had promised herself after the divorce went through that she was going to be less afraid of . . . everything.

So she parked her car and followed the strange man into his building.

He looked pleased, and possibly a little surprised that she had gone through with it.

He pulled his keys out of his leather jacket, opened the front door to his apartment.

More comforting thoughts: It was tastefully decorated—masculine, understated, clean. There was even a nice piano in the corner.

"You were drinking white wine?" he asked her, politely. He seemed, much to her surprise, a little nervous himself.

But before he could even turn toward the bar, she dove for him. He kissed her back and pulled off her coat—it dropped with a thud to the ground—and his hands were roaming her clothed form and she felt turned on in a way that she hadn't felt in, well, possibly ever.

_I'm doing this_, she thought. _I'm really doing this_.

They made their way to his bedroom and he had his hands up her skirt and he was kissing her throat and his mouth was beginning to migrate toward her breasts when she said, "Wait!"  
He stopped, already hard, and slightly out of breath.

"What's wrong?" he said, exasperated, but obedient.

"I just. . .I don't do this."

"Neither do I," he said sincerely.

"It's not that I don't _want _to. . ." she admitted.

"Good," he said, going to kiss her again.

She pushed him off for a second.

"But I. . .think we should at least introduce ourselves first, right?" she said, sheepishly. "I mean, like, our real names?"

"You mean you're _not_ an international jewel thief?" he joked. "How disappointing."

She smiled at him.

"It's just that I . . .I know nothing about you," she said.

"I'm a doctor," he said. "Does that help?"

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"What hospital?"

"Princeton Plainsboro."

She laughed.

"Then you must know my sister. . ."

And then, like a thunderbolt, it hit her: The stubble, the limp, the cockiness. She'd heard stories about him so many times.

"Oh shiiiiit," she said, turning white. "I know who you are."

"Good! Can we have sex now?" he cracked.

"You're Gregory House."

He recoiled a bit.

"How on earth do you know that?" he said, narrowing his eyes. Then, cautiously: "Wait. Who's your sister?"

And before the words had finished forming in his mouth, he knew. Her laugh, her eyes, her posture. The woman she reminded him of was none other than Lisa Cuddy. She was like Cuddy, only with the volume turned down—everything he liked about Cuddy, only _less_ so.

"You're Julia Cuddy," he said, his jaw dropping.

"Afraid so," she said.

"Holy fuck."

She noticed that he was no longer hard, or out of breath, or excited. It literally felt like the air had been sucked from the room.

"Obviously, we can't. . ." he said, backing away.

"Not, definitely not!" she agreed.

He thrust out his hand:

"Nice to have met you?" he said.

"Same."

Awkwardly, they shook.

He showed her to the door.

"I won't tell if you don't," he said, as she gave him a half-hearted wave goodnight.

######

House didn't get any sleep that night. He was officially freaked out. Freaked out that he almost slept with Cuddy's sister. Freaked out that Cuddy herself might find out. Freaked out, that _anyone_ might find out. And mostly freaked out because he knew, deep down, that Julia Cuddy was just some sort of temporary stand-in for Cuddy, herself. It was like his subconscious was telling him something he had refused to acknowledge in waking life. That he wanted to be with Lisa Cuddy so he had grasped at the next closest thing. And somehow he sensed this wasn't going to be the last he heard of it.

On Monday, he saw Cuddy in the hallway and had a completely irrational panic reaction—he literally turned and began walking in the opposite direction, which of course made him look more suspicious.

"Hey!" she said, rushing to catch up with him. She grabbed his arm to stop him. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," he said, guiltily.

"Then why are you trying to avoid me?"

"I. . .wasn't," House said. "I just remembered that I left my, uh, phone in my office."

"Your phone is in your back pocket, like it always is. I noticed this when you were _running away from me_."

"Stop staring at my ass!" he said, trying to approximate his normal behavior. "I'm a man, not an object!"

She ignored him.

"House, what did you do wrong?"

"Nothing. I swear."

"You know I'm going to find out eventually."

And House gulped.

_To be continued. . ._


	2. Chapter 2

**The following story contains mild sexual scenarios, some language, and rampant Cameron bashing. Parental guidance is advised. (Heh.) This final part borrows a bit of a prompt from Sheis1963 (sorry I couldn't make it a bigger story, girl) and a few lines of dialogue from Known Unknowns. xo, atd**

Cuddy and Julia were at the spa, getting side-by-side pedicures (Cuddy's color: juicy sangria; Julia's: evening sand), when Julia paused for a second and said, "Lis, there's something I need to tell you."

Cuddy put down the massive copy of _Vogue_ she had been flipping through and turned to her. "What's up?"

"A …strange thing happened the other day," Julia started.

"Okay. . .?" Cuddy said, slightly amused.

"Remember how you were encouraging me to go out? Have some fun? Take some risks?"

Cuddy chuckled.

"I figured at least one of the Cuddy girls should have a social life," she said.

"Well, I did. I went to this bar called Sullivan's."

"By yourself? I'm impressed!"

"Anyway. . .I met a guy there."

"Go Jules!"

"Yeah, he was. . .the complete opposite of David"—her ex-husband.

"That can only be a good thing."

"Kind of cool and really funny and a little dangerous, but in a super sexy way."

"So far, I'm loving this story."

"Anyway, we were talking, flirting, drinking…and one thing led to another and I went home with him."

"Jules!" —genuinely shocked. Even the pedicure lady looked up from Julia's nails, and gave a disapproving scowl.

"We didn't sleep together," Julia whispered quickly. "But not because I didn't want to. It was because I…discovered his true identity."

"His true identity? Like what? He was a mobster or something?"

"No." She gave Cuddy a guilty look. "Actually, it was. . .House."

Cuddy did a doubletake.

"_My_ House?"

"Yeah."

Cuddy was visibly flustered. The magazine dropped off her lap and landed on the floor. Then the polish on the stand and a glass of lemon water almost knocked over as she went to recover it.

"Wow," she said. "I didn't know that House. . .did that sort of thing."

"I thought you'd be more shocked that _I_ did that sort of thing."

"I am!" Cuddy said firmly. "Equally shocked. For both of you."

"The thing is, I can't stop thinking about him. And I was wondering. . How would you feel if I called him? Asked him out?"

"You want to _ask out_ Gregory House?"

"If it's okay with you. I mean, he's your employee. And to be honest, I've always sensed that. . ."

"Sensed what?" (Her hackles up already.)

"Well, the way you talk about him. How worked up he makes you. I've always thought that either you really hated the guy or possibly…were in love with him."

"I'm not in love with him!" Cuddy said—too quickly, too defensively.

"Are you sure? Because if you are, I'll back off. Obviously. No questions asked. I mean, he was yours first."

_If only you knew. . ._

"House is nobody's property," Cuddy said, half-heartedly.

"But why _haven't_ you dated him? I mean, he's single, he's gorgeous. You're always telling me how brilliant he is."

"I. . .don't think of House that way."

"Never?"

Cuddy looked at her hands.

"Okay, not never. But our relationship is very complicated. Always has been. And I'm pretty sure if we were meant to be a _thing_, it would've happened by now."

"So you _do_ want him . . ."

"I never said that."

"I'm getting seriously mixed signals here, sis."

"If you want to ask House out you should," Cuddy said, firmly. "But he's an addict. You should know that. A high-functioning addict, but an addict all the same."

"Those pills I saw him take?"

"Yeah. . . That's vicodin. He takes it for the pain in his leg."

"What happened there? Car accident?"

"No. . .he had something called an infarction. A blood clot of sorts. We had to remove a chunk of muscle. . .it's a very painful condition. Excruciating, actually."

"Poor guy."

"Yeah … and he's bitter about it. It gives him an edge."

"So you think he's bad news?"

The instinct to tell Julia to back off was almost overwhelming. But she didn't trust her own advice. After all, whose interests was she really looking out for?

"No. . .I never said that. I love House." She turned a bit red. "I mean, I admire him a lot. He's a brilliant doctor. He has spotless integrity. And he's just. . .really fun to be around, you know? It's like playing tennis against a better partner. He always keeps you on your toes."

She smiled, for a moment, lost in a memory of one of their many verbal sparring matches. Then she turned back to her sister.

"You should definitely go for it," she said. "Just wear your armor. He can be …a challenge."

"I could use a little challenge in my life," Julia said, smiling. "Thanks sis."

######

She called House the next day.

"It's Julia," she said, adding sheepishly: "Remember me? The international jewel thief?"

"You're pretty hard to forget," he said, sitting up in his chair.

"I'm sorry about the way things ended between us the other night. I think we both. . .panicked a bit."

"Appropriately," House said. "It was a panic-worthy situation."

"Anyway, I'd like a do-over, if you're up for it."

House gripped the phone a little more tightly.

"A do-over?"

"Yeah. Like dinner. On Friday. It's David's weekend to watch the kids."

"And when Cuddy finds out? She'll kill us both."

"No, she won't. I told her already. She gave me her blessing to ask you out."

"No she didn't!"

"Yes she did. I asked her and she said to go for it."

"Go for it?"

"Those were her exact words: To go for it."

House was speechless. He stared at the receiver, in shock.

"Helllllllo? You still alive?" Julia teased.

"Yes, I. . .I'm still here."

"So what do you say? You up for it? Or am I about to start my post-divorce dating life with an embarrassing rejection?"

"No, I. . .uh. . .sure," House said, still a bit dazed. "Dinner on Friday sounds great."

When he got off the phone, he immediately limped down to Cuddy's office.

"What the hell, Cuddy?" he said, folding his arms.

"What the hell what?"

"You gave your sister permission to date me?"

"I think you have this conversation twisted, House. I'm the one who should be yelling at you: You almost slept with my sister and didn't bother telling me? What? Did it slip your mind?"

"No," House said, feebly. "I just didn't think you needed to know. Ever."

"Julia and I don't have secrets."

"_Now_ you tell me."

"But there's no accounting for taste because she apparently …likes you."

"So why not tell her to stay the fuck away from me? I'm obviously a disaster."

"She's a big girl. She can make her own decisions."

"She said you gave it your blessing. Said, 'Go for it.'"

"I did…why shouldn't you date Julia? I mean, you're a pain in my ass, but you have your. . .moments."

"My moments?"

"Yeah, your moments."

House scratched his head.

"So you're really okay with this?"

"Yeah," Cuddy said, trying to keep her voice casual. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He made direct eye contact.

"No reason, I guess."

"Right," she said. "No reason."  
#####

House's head was spinning. He couldn't remember the last time he was this utterly confused by a series of events.

Normally, he'd unload on Wilson (mocking the insight and advice his friend gave, while secretly hanging on every word) but Wilson was annoyingly out of town on a boating trip with his family.

So he went into his office and threw bally up against the wall and mulled things over.

He was so deep inside his own head, he didn't even notice that Cameron had entered his office.

She cleared her throat, scaring him. He almost tipped over in the chair he'd been tilting back in, and the ball bounced off the wall and dribbled to the ground.

"Christ, Cameron. Sneak up on a guy much?"

"I've been standing here for 30 seconds," she said. "What are you so deep in thought about?"

"I'm diagnosing," he said, picking up the ball.

"We're between cases," she replied.

"I never said it was a medical case."

She frowned.

"What's going on?"

He looked at her. He was actually so desperate to bounce some ideas off something that wasn't a wall, he decided to come clean.

"You're a woman, right?" he said. "Well, not a girl, not yet a woman, but close enough."

"I am," she said, sitting down.

"Let's just say you had a sister. And she wanted to date … a friend of yours."

"Okay…" Cameron said, confused.

"If you told her to 'go for it' what would that mean?"

"I guess that would mean that she should go for it," Cameron said, ironically.

"Yeah, but…You wouldn't let your sister date some guy you thought was an asshole, would you?"

"Definitely not. But I thought you said this guy was my friend."

"Right...More like frenemy."

"I guess if I gave my sister the go-ahead, it would mean I thought the guy was decent boyfriend material."

"Then why not date him yourself?"

"Maybe I'm not into him that way. You can be friends with a guy and not be physically attracted to him."

"Oh no, you're physically attracted to him," House said, cockily. Then a thought occurred to him. "Let's just say that you and this friend once were…intimate. A long time ago."

"House, who are we talking about here? Whose sister are you thinking about dating?"

"This isn't about me," House said, quickly. "I'm asking for a friend. He wanted my advice."

Cameron cocked an eyebrow. "Okay," she said, skeptically, continuing to play along. "So I had sex with my frenemy?"

"Yeah, a long time ago. College days."

"Maybe the sex was bad?"

"No. It was great. Either that or you're, like, the Meryl Streep of porno films."

"According to your friend," she teased.

"Yeah," he said. "He told me all about it."

"So why aren't I still with this guy I had great sex with? Why are we just …frenemies now?"

"He kind of. . . never called after the sex. I mean, he had a really good reason. But it _might_ have been seen as a rejection."

"So he's an asshole!"

House cringed a bit.

"Yeah…but like I said, there was a good reason."

"But she doesn't know that good reason?

"No."

"So that must be it," Cameron said, thoughtfully. "I guess she found it in her heart to forgive him, up to a point. But romantically, he's dead to her. So she figures, why not let her sister date the guy?"

House tossed the ball against the wall again, already starting to ignore her.

"Thanks," he said vaguely.

"Now are you going to tell me who we're really talking about here?" she said.

But he had already tuned her out.

######

Now it was Cameron's head that was spinning. House was obviously talking about himself. He had no friends, other than Wilson—and this "friend" didn't sound like Wilson at all (for one thing, Wilson would never sleep with a girl and not call her). So whose sister was House thinking of dating? And who was this frenemy he was obviously in love with?

The answer was obvious, staring her in the face, but she didn't want to believe it. Then fate intervened.

A doctor named Margaret Murray was giving a guest lecture at Trenton General: The Limits of Compassionate Care: Can Doctors Get Too Close?

Cameron was, of course, naturally interested in the subject matter, but there was something else that drew her in: Dr. Murray attended the University of Michigan and graduated in 1992, the same year that Cuddy had graduated.

So she attended the lecture, nodding and taking notes along the way. (The short answer to Murray's question of the title: No, they can't.)

Afterwards, she lurked around the auditorium until it cleared out. Then she approached Dr. Murray.

"I really enjoyed your lecture," she said. "I try to apply the same principles in my practice."

Murray smiled at her.

"Oh, where do you practice?"

"At Princeton Plainsboro. I'm in the Diagnostics Department."

"Princeton Plainsboro? Say hi to Dr. Cuddy for me," she said.

"You know her?" Cameron said.

"Oh yes. We were classmates and friends. She was a rock star, even back then."

"And did you also know my boss. . .Gregory House?"

"Speaking of rock stars," Murray said, chuckling. "The legend of U of M."

"It's funny that they're working together, isn't it?" Cameron said leadingly.

"Not really," she said, packing her books and notes off the lecturn. "Have they gotten married yet?"

"Married! No! Why would you say that?"

"Oh, I just assumed. I'm pretty sure they were dating at Michigan. Or 'hooking up' as the kids say. Whatever the case, there was always something between those two. Guess there still is. Tell Dr. House I said hi. Not that he'll remember me. I was just another starry-eyed undergraduate to him. He only had eyes for your Dean of Medicine."  
She had finished packing up her stuff and suddenly seemed impatient with the conversation.

"It was very nice meeting you," she said to Cameron.

"Yeah," Cameron said, distractedly. "Nice to have met you, too."

#####

The next day, Cameron marched into House's office and closed the door behind her.

"You slept with Cuddy!" she said, accusingly.

"I did not!" he said. Then, confused: "Wait. Which one?"

Her eyes widened.

"You slept with _Cuddy's sister_, too?" she said.

"No! I haven't slept with Cuddy or her sister. Or her mother. Or her aunt. Or her first cousin once-removed. Have you been dipping into my Vicodin supply?"

"That story you told me the other day. That was about Cuddy, right? And her sister Julie."

"Julia," House corrected.

"Aha!" Cameron said.

"What? Just because I know her name I've slept with her? If I knew her age, would we be engaged?"

"That story was obviously about you—and Cuddy."

"No it wasn't. I told you, it was about a friend."

He could hardly believe that he had been so desperate for a sounding board he had unloaded on Cameron, of all people. What an idiot he was.

"I bumped into an old classmate of yours: Margaret Murray."

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"She knew you'd say that. Anyway, she told me that you and Cuddy hooked up at Michigan."

"She's lying."

"She had no reason to lie."

"Then she's wildly misinformed."

"She asked if you two were married yet," Cameron said.

"Really?" House said, momentarily pleased. Then he caught himself: "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"So you and Cuddy's sister are going on a date…" Cameron mused.

"No, we're not. I've never even met Julia. And I never slept with Cuddy."

"Okay…" Cameron said, obviously not convinced.

"Cameron, if you breathe a word of this fantasy of yours to anyone, so help me, I will have you fired."

"My lips are sealed," Cameron said. "Because your vociferous protests aren't suspicious _at all_."

######

The prospect of House dating Cuddy's sister was unpleasant to Cameron. But even more unpleasant was the fact that he obviously wanted Cuddy instead (because wasn't she who he was _really _obsessing over that day in his office?). Intellectually she knew that even a grouch like House needed sex, companionship, possibly love. Better it be a woman she didn't know, didn't have to face every single day, didn't see as a direct threat. So she decided to help move things along.

She found Cuddy in the hospital gym, on the stationary bike. She couldn't help but to notice and admire her boss's perfect physique, the mist of sweat that coated her well-toned abs and arms. She was easily 10 years older than Cameron but was in much better shape.

"Can I be your workout buddy?" she said, jokingly.

Cuddy looked at her out of the corner of her eye. She actually preferred working out on her own, but it would be rude to say no.

"Of course!" she said, with put-on cheer.

Cameron hopped on the stationary bike beside her, began peddling.

"Oh hey," she said. "I bumped into an old friend of yours. She says hi."

"What old friend?"

"Margaret Murray? She gave a lecture at Trenton General."

"Margie? You're kidding! I wish I had known. I would've gone with you. How was she?"

"Great. She talked about the dangers of getting overly attached to terminal patients but how staying in touch with our humanity is painful but makes us better doctors."

"That sounds like her," Cuddy said, chuckling fondly. "She was always a softy. She would tear up over particularly sad episodes of _Full House_."

"She mentioned that you and House were close at Michigan?" Cameron said.

"Close," Cuddy said, beginning to pedal a bit more furiously. "I wouldn't say close. We knew each other."

"Oh…she must've been misinformed."

"Yeah, on top of being a softy, she was a bit of a busy-body." Then she added, under her breath: "Come to think of it, she reminds me of someone else."

"Excuse me?" Cameron said.

Cuddy smiled brightly. "Nothing," she said.

"Speaking of House…what's this I hear about him dating your sister?"

Now Cuddy stopped pedaling completely and gaped at her.

"What? Who told you that?"

_You just did_.

"House."

"House told you he's dating Julia?"

"Not in so many words. He was asking me for…romantic advice."

Cuddy began peddling again, but slowly. "What kind of romantic advice?"

"It was cute actually. He was doing a differential. On his love life. He seemed concerned that being with Julia might affect his status with you. . .as an employee."

"As an _employee_?"

"That's what he said."

"This is the first I'm hearing about any of this," Cuddy lied.

"Oh really? Gosh, sorry. I didn't mean to step in anything that was none of my business. It was just really sweet. He seems so into her."

Cuddy didn't reply, but kept peddling furiously, like she was trying to murder the bike.

"You've got to tell me what kind of weight training you do on your arms," Cameron said, feeling triumphant. "They're amazing."

####

Cuddy showered, changed, and headed up to House's office.

"Hey," he said. Then he sniffed the air. "You smell good."

"Thanks. I just came out of the. . .never mind. So tomorrow's the big day, huh?"

"Big day?"

"Your date with Julia?"

"Oh yeah. I guess."

"Where are you two going?"

"This Peruvian place she said she likes. . ."

"Chimu?" Cuddy asked. She and Julia had been there a few times. They had amazing spit-roasted chicken and small, cozy tables with candles.

"Yeah, that's the place."

"Good. You'll like it."

He looked at her.

"Cuddy, are you really sure that . . .?"

"Don't worry, no matter what happens this won't affect your status as an employee," Cuddy said.

"As an employee," House said. "Good. I was worried about that."

"But as her sister, let me say this: Hurt her and I'll kill you."

"Seems fair," he said. And he attempted a smile.

#######

He lay in bed that night, obsessing over the two sisters: The one he was about to date and the one that he actually wanted.

He wasn't going to get any sleep—and he knew it. He had to get something off his chest. So he threw on a pair of jeans, grabbed his leather jacket and biked to her place. It was midnight, but he didn't care.

He banged loudly on her door.

Cuddy answered, rubbing her eyes, wearing just a flimsy nightie. (He tried not to stare, but found that nearly impossible.)

"What are you doing here, House?" she said, groggily.

"I got expelled," he said.

"_What_?"

"I got expelled. From Michigan. That's why I never called you after we, well . .. _you know_."

"Why on earth are you telling me this at"—she looked at the clock on her mantle—"12:30 on a Thursday night, approximately _20 years_ after the fact?"

"I just thought you should know," he said, toeing the ground. "After we _. . .did it_, I was going to call you, see where things would go from there, but then I got the call from the dean and there seemed…no point."

She studied him.

"What's this really all about?" she said.

He shrugged, approximating the body language of a teenage boy.

"Does this have anything to do with my sister?" she said. "I told you. I trust you. If I didn't, I wouldn't let you date her."

"I'm just trying to figure something out. . ." he said.

"Figure out what?"

He clenched his jaw a bit.

"Why you don't like me anymore."

She was taken aback.

"What? Of course I like you."

"I don't mean as friends…" he said, looking at her.

"House, you're confusing me. You're interested in my sister, not me. _She's_ the one you want."

"No," he said.

"No?"

"I want you."

A wave of unexpected relief washed over her. It was like she had been holding her breath for a long time and could finally exhale.

"But Cameron said. . ."

"Cameron? What the fuck does Cameron have to do with any of this?"

"She said you were doing a love differential—on Julia!"

"Yeah, I was trying to figure out why I was good enough for your sister but not for you."

"I never said you weren't good enough for me! Who said that? _You_ weren't interested in me!"

"How could you possibly, for one second, think I wasn't interested in you?" he said.

"I don't know. . .But you went home with Julia."

"Because she reminded me of you!"

They both stared at each other. Then, impulsively, House lunged for her, kissed her.

She kissed back—their tongues intermingling naturally—and his hands were all over her nightie, which was so threadbare, she could feel the tips of his fingers against her skin. She shivered a bit, excited by his touch. They were both breathing heavily now, moaning and whimpering a bit as they backed slowly into her house. It all felt so inevitable, so right, that if they weren't both so incredibly turned on, they might've been cursing the years of wasted time, those lost hours and minutes that they were fighting, flirting, denying their feelings—doing anything but _this_. Instead, they managed to stagger into the bedroom, where he pulled off her nightgown in one swift move.

He gulped, staring at her naked form, licking his lips unconsciously.

"Jesus Christ woman" he said

Then he wriggled out of his jeans and boxers, as they fell back on the bed and she arched her back eagerly to receive him.

They had sex twice and then both fell asleep. House woke up in the middle of the night to look at her, to make sure she was real. He gently kissed her shoulder blade, trying not to wake her, but she murmured some sort of approval, then climbed onto him, gave him a drowsy, sultry kiss on his mouth, and spread her legs to him.

When she woke up, he was propped up on his pillow, watching her.

"Don't you ever sleep?" she said, with a girlish giggle.

"Too excited," he said.

"That _was_ pretty exciting," she said, kissing him.

"C'mere," he said. So she curled into his arms and he held her tightly.

"Why didn't we do this sooner?" Cuddy said.

"Because we're a couple of idiots," House said.

"That has the ring of truth. But what about. . .

" . . .Julia?" they said, in unison.

House grabbed the phone on the nightstand. "What's her number?" he said.

"It's 9 a.m. Do you think this is the best time to cancel a date?"

"The sooner the better," House said.

"Okay, but be gentle."

"You saw for yourself how gentle I can be," House said.

"Yes," she said, adding dirtily, "and _not_."

He grinned, raised his eyebrows.

She gave him the number and he called.

"Hey, Julia. It's House."

"Hi," she said warily. "Let me guess, you're cancelling."

"Yeah, I've given this a lot of thought and I just think it's a bad idea. It has nothing to do with you. Any guy would lucky to have you. It's just that. . ."

"Put Lisa on," she said, impatiently.

"What?"

"I said put my sister on. She's lying right next to you, isn't she?"

"I, um. . ."

He cupped the phone and whispered, conspiratorially, "She wants to talk to you."

Cuddy rolled her eyes in a knowing sort of way, laughed, and grabbed the phone.

"Hi Jules," she said.

"Not in love with him, huh?" Julia cracked.

"Okay, maybe a little bit."

"You do realize that you owe me. Big time."

"I know."

"I mean, this is 10 times bigger than that time I covered you when you dented mom's car in the twelfth grade."

"Way bigger."

House wagged his eyebrows again and Cuddy hit him: Not _that_.

"Enjoy Mr. Sexy, sis."

"Oh, I plan to. And I'm really sorry about this, Jules."

"Don't be. Possession is nine-tenths of the law. He was yours first. Tell him I say hi."

Cuddy hung up and laughed. "Julia says hi."

"What's way bigger?" he said, climbing on her.

"Your ego!" she screamed giddily, as he pinned her against the bed and ravaged her.

######

Cameron was pleased.

House was in a very good mood—whistling even. Which could only mean one thing.

"Excited about your date with Julia?" she said, eagerly.

"Naw, I cancelled it," he said matter-of-factly, figuring there was no point in lying anymore.

She was taken aback.

"Cancelled it?"

"Yeah. Why settle for a substitute when you can have the real thing?" he said. And he winked.

THE END


End file.
